trans_9 | When in rome [Semi-open]

Entry tags:

When in rome [Semi-open]

The mission briefing was short and sweet. Planet Epicurea, breathable air, drinkable water, food that wouldn't melt your stomach, matriarchical society unusually fond of procedure and posturing. The plan was to find an object of interest (description helpfully provided by the ship), negotiate for it, then return to the rendezvous coordinates before Stacy decided to leave without them. So simple, only three crew members would be assigned to carry out the mission.

Anwei Ayles, whose negotiation skills and extensive experience dealing with alien races (especially slightly snooty ones) would no doubt prove eminently useful for the delicate nature of the bargaining that would take place,

Howard Bassem, whose intrinsic understanding of diplomacy and unorthodox means of obtaining information would smooth over any rough edges (and maybe help grease the wheels a little behind the scenes), and last of all --

[ooc -- Anyone's free to barge in during the first subthread ("Mission Briefing") if they like, the rest of the post is only Anwei, Howard, and Zouichi :) ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

One of the servants in the back faints with a lustful gasp. None of the others dare to move long enough to help her up.

The Countess gives her first facial expression of the day, a rather stunned and almost hungry gaze that she turns on Zouichi. Then, she gives a dramatic sigh. "I suppose it must be for the best. He may be slightly too much masculinity to be handled. A hundred and thirty, and we have a deal with the entry to the tour."

Anwei's gaze did not even twitch at the collapse of the servant.

"I appreciate your foresight, Countess. One hundred and thirty gallons, to be delivered at your convenience. For now," Anwei yawned both prettily and dramatically, her outstretched fingers barely covering her toothy gape, "I think that I shall retire and," she cut her eyes at Zouichi for barely a second, "rest. It will be my pleasure to tour your beautiful planet with such a distinguished patron to guide me."

She rose, her head reflexively twitching to one side so that the feathers and tendrils of her headdress did not sweep up Zouichi's face. She pointed to the floor at a little distance behind her, indicating where her servant could walk behind her, before stepping forward and between the Countess' bowing servants.

Zouichi, for his part, clasped his hands together before his little lacy apron, bowing deeply to the Countess before wheeling neatly on his heel and following Anwei out the door. He was sure to keep to the required distance behind her, as instructed: the epitome of a well-trained servant.

It didn't work for Anwei and Zouichi. Howard knows that well ahead of time.

Which means he gets to sit in the hotel lobby, flicking a tab from a can of what might be either soda or acid with his teeth, grinning and lounging around. His outfit is considerably less embarrassing than Zouichi's, heavy orange and yellow robes with optical-illusiony patterns on them that draw the eye. He's kept his shoes, though - no sandals necessary when the robes cover your feet when standing.

He resists the urge to snicker at Zouichi when they come in. As entertaining as it is, Zouichi's discomfort has gone from 'amusing' to 'slightly disconcerting'.

"Hey guys, guess who figured out why Stacy brought him along after all?"

Anwei's back and neck were starting to scream in protest from standing so straight and tall, from walking like she had a spine of iron, and from supporting the weight of the fluttery, rippling, triply-damned hat that looked like the headgear of two Las Vegas showgirls had mated, and gotten stuck.

But she drew the weight of what dignity she had left around her as she strode up to Howard. His informality was not appropriate for this public setting; she could already see glances aimed at them.

"You can tell me in private," she said, with a really regal sweep of her head. More quietly, so that only he could hear, "Remember, you're supposed to be a servant. Act like one." After all, it was only an act.

Zouichi's outward expression was serene, collected; this latest was merely his mistress scolding a wayward servant who had forgotten his place, as was her wont. His input was not required, though he did bow slightly in greeting to a passing curious alien.

Howard's grin fades a bit as he slides into line with Zouichi, but not before whispering to Anwei, "hey, I know you've still got some residual shi-shi hotshot breeding from your homeworld, but the three of us are working together."

The hotel room is rather nice, by Epicurean standards, which means that everything about it is sparkly and tacky. It's like a colorful, feathered, sequined assault on both your retinas and on good taste. There's one opulent bed for Anwei, with a headrest you could land a small plane on, and two small pads on the floor which could count as beds if you prefaced them with 'pet'. The view is at least nice, with a window taking up almost a whole wall, but Howard expects that the lack of curtains is going to make things a little paranoia-inducing.

Still, once they get to the room, he sits on Anwei's bed - carefully blocked from outside sight by the one sliver of opaque wall on the far side - and leans back. "So, how'd it go?" he asks innocently.

"I know that," she growled, walking towards the elevator without even looking to see if her 'servants' were following. "But males are expected to bend the knee here; if you act out of character, you'll be noticed. And we might need you not to be noticed." Because stealing the Orb was still an option in the back of her mind.

She closed her eyes as soon as she entered the room; it was a gesture of self-defense. More glitter, more sequins, more gemstones encrusted on the furniture and the baseboards (hopefully none of those were camera lenses in disguise). And why did she get the distinct impression that this glitter would also glow in the dark? Maybe she could blindfold herself with a stocking, or something.

She aimed a very dark look at Howard. "We managed to gain entrance to the grand culinary tour for one hundred and thirty gallons of slop. The Orb is apparently not to be shown to aliens. And staying here the full two days to look for it would definitely be cutting it short."

Zouichi watched the both of them maintain their back-and-forth, closing the door behind them as they entered the room. It was... ostentatious. But at least it wasn't made of meat.

"May I take it that you were more successful?" he asked, waiting beside Anwei to receive her hat. Or dress. Whichever she decided to jettison first.

"Seriously, I could be dressed like Elvis and singing karaoke and no one would notice I was here," Howard says, but he still looks a bit troubled.

He holds a moment of silence for just a second - building up suspense, like the parlor scene in a mystery TV show! - while slipping out of his robes and back into his under-outfit, which is must less stiflingly hot and eye-searing.

"I was. While you guys were busy getting a reservation at the world's sparkliest restaurants, I found out who we need to talk to to get in the right room with someone. Because I'm smart and awesome, obviously." Yes, he is enjoying this. "Anyway, we just have to ask them for sponsorship and then it's up to you, Anwei."

"I think you underestimate yourself." Compared to the dull expressions that most of the men on this planet wore, Howard's bright eyes and obvious intelligence stood out like a sore thumb that had designs on your wallet.

Getting out of these clothes was an excellent idea. She kicked the narrow door next to the closet and was delighted when a full dress stand and separate hat stand rolled out. Excellent! And if she put them, along with the bustle and panniers and underrobes, next to the window, they would have some privacy.

Of course the dress was designed so that she couldn't get it off without help. Before she had to do that, though, she ran her fingers though the hat's tendrils until she found four steel rings, and squeezed. The clamps holding the hat to her skull came loose, and she stuck it onto the hat stand with a sigh of relief.

"Good job." And a relief; anything to cut this process shorter. "And what did you promise to make this happen? I hope you didn't sell the shuttle, we'll need it to get back."

Zouichi moves to where Howard is sitting on the bed, taking a seat next to him -- carefully, to avoid wrinkling his skirt. He puts both white-gloved hands upon one of Howard's.

"I knew you had it in you, Howard," he cooes, leaning in close and giving Howard the most charming little smile. "Your resourcefulness is a true asset."

Then he stands, rearranging the hat on its stand before walking over to help Anwei undo the complicated lacework at the back of her dress. He's taking care not to pull too hard while still allowing Anwei to slip free as soon as possible.

"You're getting way too into character, man." Howard gives Zouichi a wary look and inches away, then stage-whispers to Anwei. "What did you do to him? Did you accidentally hit him in the head with your hat?"

Even if it weren't, you know, Zouichi, Howard's never been flirted with and as such this is doubly weird. Even if Zouichi's just messing around.

"And actually, I didn't promise anything important. Just, you know, a little favor for the guy getting the information in the future we won't be around for, and something more valuable than ten thousand credits here. You need to ask the Glimmering Prosperity Clan for sponsorship to this Smiling Daughter festival - they're the ones with the thingie."

"Zouichi, that really isn't necessary while only the team is here," she said, a little too dryly. Seeing him so restrained made something inside of her perk up and take notice, and it was not a part of her that she liked when it perked up.

She moved her shoulders and back in exactly the right way to help the laces come loose. The low-cut front helped as well, and soon she wriggled free and draped the dress over the stand, picking at it with critical fingers to make sure that it would air properly overnight, and not get any wrinkles.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Howard. "Ten thousand credits, hmn? That's quite a favor to leave hanging. I hope that this guy hasn't rearranged his life too much in the expectation of this favor."

Somewhere in his head, Zouichi is filing away a note about how to mess with Howard for future use. In the meantime, though, he's still securely in the zone. This mission is going to succeed. It is going to succeed if it kills him. He's got a bead on this character now. He is not going to let go of it easily.

Zouichi smiles at Howard once more over Anwei's shoulders. "I'm only doing my best to support your efforts. That is my role here, after all." After Anwei moves off from the dress, he makes a point of going over it once more with a careful eye, in case there's an area she missed. It was, after all, a very expensive dress.

Howard, like the mature teenager he is, sticks his tongue out at Zouichi. He sits on the floor and starts going through Anwei's sewing kit until he finds a needle and thread, then holds them in his mouth as he rips the seams out of one side of his robes. He pulls a handful of Velcro strips from his pocket and lays them neatly beside his robes as he works.

He feels a sudden and unexpected pang of sadness. He learned to sew making clothing for Orc. Never thought it would come in handy so far away from home, with nobody he trusts and some forced sense of purpose.

"Not ten thousand credits to that guy," he says around the needle and edge of thread, shaking his head. "Ten thousand would be the price we put on the Orb. I told the guy Hilvetca's going to drop her price and he bought it, so we should get first crack at it. We still have what, seventy gallons left of goo? That's way more than ten thousand."

He shoots a glare at Zouichi. "And cut that out."

Anwei watched Howard's work with a slight frown, absent-mindedly adjusting her underrobe now that the bustier, underskirt, under-underskirt, panniers, pannier padding, and pannier-under-over-padding was off. She still was wearing enough clothes to make a small sail out of. On the plus side, the window was nicely obscured by the undergarments.

"Seventy gallons should do it. And be sure to point this man out to me - I'll want to make it clear to his clan that he is the one who arranged this." Her word was all she could offer, but hopefully that would be enough.

She looked at Zouichi, the clear untroubled gaze, the lowered head, the careful way he picked at her dress, and felt sudden heat flush her cheeks. "Zouichi, stop that," she ground out. "Relax."

You're just making this too easy, Howard. And the best part of this is that as long as Zouichi keeps this up, Howard will apparently be too uncomfortable to make fun of him. Win/win.

He doesn't even notice that Anwei's tone has changed. He looks up from his work, all attentiveness. "Are the two of you hungry?" he asks, sweetly. "I can fetch something from the kitchen if you tell me what you'd like."

Howard bristles at Zouichi's sweet tone. It reminds him of the kids in fourth grade who used to tease and pester to get under his skin, right before they'd beat him up. He's had quite enough of this teasing, thanks. "Zou, cut that shit out. We're both telling you to can it, so stop. And orange juice if they have it."

He starts sewing the Velcro in and whimpers as he accidentally stabs his own finger. "And sure thing, Ivories. Wouldn't want the dumbass who trusted trade secrets to the random teenager who popped up at his waist to get screwed out of a promotion."

Anwei had just gone past bristling and all the way into fury. Howard's words were a dull buzzing next to the blood thudding in her ears. Her training was calling to her, showing her exactly what Zouichi was doing wrong, the wrists not angled correctly, the eyes not low enough. And that training was telling her to discipline, hit him, hurt him, make him obey, because he was a servant, property, a sla-

"ZOUICHI!" she shrilled, high and loud; outside in the hallway two maids clutched at each other in terror. "STOP IT!" She panted, her mouth open wide in a hideous gape; when she closed it they could all hear the sharp clack of tooth on tooth. She managed to drop her voice from shriek to yell. "You are playing a role, you are playing it well, but right now I need you to stop playing it and start acting like a member of this team! Not like one of those-" she gestured angrily at the window, "whipped dogs out there!" She shuddered all over for an instant and then deliberately relaxed, hands going loose, neck muscles slackening. The hair on the back of her scalp visibly lowered a few degrees.

"We will order the food," she finally said. "Whatever we, emphasis on we, decide on. And, and," she shook her hand at the ornate bed in a fury, "and I don't want to sleep there. My back hurts. Either of you can have it. I'll take the floor."

The maids crept away from the door, agog: they had heard only the muffled words 'role', 'whipped' and 'sleep,' and from that had made an entire playlet, quickly to be repeated in many eager ears.

Zouichi's about to roll his eyes right back at Howard and make some remark about dishing it out and not being able to take it (especially since he was so quick to get on Zouichi's case before), but then Anwei is suddenly screaming almost incoherently about roles and acting like a member of the team.

"I don't know if you noticed this, Anwei, but I don't have a very substantial role in this mission. You and Howard are experienced at negotiating, and I'm only here for backup. And since I'm here--" on your insistence, he refrains from adding, "I am trying to perform to the best of my ability. If you need my input, then feel free to ask for it. Politely."

He frowned. "And as I'm sure I've mentioned to you before, I do not require any food. Therefore you will be deciding what you wish to eat, and not I."

Anwei's mouth is like a zeke's mouth. That's terrifying. Also she's yelling.

As many times as Howard has stared death in the face in the form of the basement murder zombie, Anwei still scares the hell out of him, and while his face is only mildly surprised he does drop the needle and thread. Slowly picking it up, he looks between Zouichi and Anwei.

Maybe Stacy just custom-picked them for maximum drama. Maybe she's recording this and the whole thing is a scamming reality TV show. Big Brother, only with aliens and dinosaurs and synthetic humans.

"I'll take the bed," he says quietly, slipping more behind it than onto it.

She was not stepping forward to bite. She was keeping her eyes locked parallel, not letting them loll outwards; that eye movement was what you did after you had set your teeth in your meat, to see if anything else was coming to take it away from you.

She swallowed. "Zouichi, I'm sorry, But I ask you, please. Stop acting like a s-servant. Not here, not in this place. It brings back too many bad memories. Once we are in public you can play the necessary role as perfectly as you like but," she breathed again, "not in private."

She glanced over at Howard, taking in the too-mild expression mixed with the hiding posture. "Sorry, Howard. I told you once I'd make a terrible leader," she said mildly. "Now you see why. Stacy is apparently amusing herself at your expense. Or our expense..."

She touched the room communicator and in a rough voice that could easily be mistaken for male ordered frizzled night-fish with mangi, a side order of grap, sliced deep-fried potatoes, and fruit juice - orange, if possible. The she took up the two sleeping pads and arranged them along the wall, pondering the placement of one on the other as though it was the most important thing in the world.

"I understand," he says. His voice is cool; honestly, he's a little annoyed at how fast Anwei's gone from essentially telling him to clam up and deal with it to telling him to do the opposite.

Ignoring Anwei for the time being, he moves to the window, leaning up against the nearby wall to look outside the room. Since he doesn't need to eat or sleep, it's going to be a grating eight or more hours until they need to do something again.

Maybe he should have brought a book.

"Yayyy, tension," Howard mutters and he climbs into the bed. "For God's sake, how are we supposed to sleep on sequins? Or with glitter in our underwear?"

At least room service is fast. Howard eats the fried potatoes unusually quietly, his typical complaining replaced by a suspicious, respectful silence as he tries to think about how they're going to get through this weekend without killing each other. Anwei's terrifying, and apparently there's no easier way to push her buttons than to be passive and slavish. Something's up there, some kind of deep, bad history with the lap of luxury. He'll have to keep an eye out for that, in case he ever needs a quick way to verbally disarm or enrage her.

Zouichi, on the other hand...well, Howard's not sure if they were ever really friends, but tensions have certainly risen since starting on this mission. Howard almost regrets making fun of the maid's outfit, but how was he supposed to know Zou'd take it so personally? Maybe the negotiations had just gone that badly, but Howard suspects more at work here.

Either way, it leaves him feeling trapped in the middle. Stacy has a weird idea of team-building and bonding experiences.

Without a good night to either of them, he burrows under the incredibly itchy sequined covers and goes into a fitful sleep.

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS

Re: OFFICIAL CHANNELS